


What Died Didn’t Stay Dead (You’re Alive In My Head)

by Okay_and_Forever



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Ava is dead this whole fic, F/F, I cried while writing this, i sincerely apologize for being fucked up, listen to Marjorie by Taylor Swift while reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okay_and_Forever/pseuds/Okay_and_Forever
Summary: Ava dies, and Beatrice becomes the next halo bearer. Beatrice is depressed over Ava’s death, so she talks to her through the halo.(I suck at summaries. Sorry?)
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	What Died Didn’t Stay Dead (You’re Alive In My Head)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Marjorie by Taylor Swift while you read.

It’s been four weeks since the battle that took Ava away from me. Away from us. And yet, I still hear her everywhere I go. Every dumb pun that’s right there and I know she would have made. Every hopeless situation she would have joked about then smiled through as if it were nothing. Every night devoid of brightness, only filled by my eyes drifting around the ceiling in the dark, and my breathing getting heavier and more panicked at each roadblock I inevitably find in all of my plans, only to hear her faint knock on the door at half past two in the morning, long after the both of us should already be asleep.

Only, I know the knocking will never come again. I will never hear her shaking knuckles collide with the ages old wood that creates the frame of my bedroom door. I will never whisper, as gently as I possibly can, out into the darkness for confirmation of who I hope the intruder is, who she always would be,  _ “Ava, is that you? Was it another nightmare, my beloved?” _ And if I do call out in the darkness, hoping against reason that my love has returned to me, I won’t get a response from her.

Not a funny,  _ “Yeah, but I think I kicked his ass,” _ that would usually be accompanied by one of Ava’s beautifully short laughs. Nor a shy,  _ “I- I’m sorry, Tris. Would it be okay if I slept in here tonight? . . . I feel safe with you watching over me,” _ a plea for help that I could never resist saying yes to. Or even a small nod of her head, barely visible through the darkness, but with an energy that is so uniquely Ava’s, I immediately knew what the exchange had been. . . But since none of these came, neither could my response.

I could never whisper back to her,  _ “Come on, Ava. But hurry up before Mother Superion sees you.” _ I couldn’t hear her laugh at how ridiculous the thought of Superion being awake at 2:30 in the morning was to her, before my room was filled with the sound of her feet crossing quickly towards my bed, and the door shutting behind her. I couldn’t lift up the right side covers on my already too small bed for Ava to slide under. I couldn’t feel her still shaking body, terrified from the nightmares she was always fighting off, but as calm as possible unless you held her in you arms like I would do.

I could never again feel Ava’s face burrow into my chest, listening intently for the heart beating underneath my nightclothes, safely in place under the ribs that protect my chest. I could never again lift my hands up to comb through her hair as she broke down slowly into sleep. I couldn’t hug my right arm underneath her head, carefully placed for her to have as a pillow as I whisper sweet promises in her ear. I could never again feel Ava lift her arms slowly around my body to hold onto my back for dear life, pressing us closer and closer together each time she squeezed, her grip like a boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of me and into herself, and I, a willing sacrifice, never minding giving up a part of me as long as it makes Ava feel stronger. I don’t get to hear her soft voice as she whispers into my chest, already half asleep again,  _ “I love you, Beatrice. Never forget that.”  _ Or her happy sigh at my response,  _ “I love you too, Ava. And I promise I won’t ever forget.” _

I can never feel how gentle she would get when she kissed me. Like a powerful storm calming down to little more than a mist and a breeze just to catch my face in a comfortable way. And I miss feeling that. I miss feeling that so much. I miss all of it so much that it physically hurts.

I feel the lump of numbness constantly swollen in my throat. Reminding me of the voice that is no longer ringing out beside me. I feel the pull at my chest, like a thread has been attached to my heart inside, and is being yanked out of my body to be with its other half. I feel the headache swimming around by my ears and eyes, working overtime to permanently etch in carvings on my brain of the way she looked, and the sound of her laugh. And who she was. Because I know that one day I’ll forget her. And what has died will be dead.

But ever since I was given the halo, it’s almost like I can hear her. Like, Ava is with me right now, begging me to move on from this maddening ache of missing her. Because she wouldn’t want this for me. She would never want for me to drive myself insane listening for her voice, searching for her scent, looking for a glimpse of her hair in the wind. And she knows I would do anything for her. For what she wants.

At first, I thought I knew better. I thought that receiving a message from someone who is gone was madness. I tried to ignore the feeling of Ava watching from behind my back. Constantly there to make sure I don’t put too much weight on myself. But as time went on, I learned that it wasn’t just madness. Ava is with me. In the halo on my back, her spirit rests with all of the other warrior nuns. And she knows how to give me hope. 

A hand on my shoulder as I lead the sisters off into another battle that I am far from sure we will return from. A kiss on my temple, or the top of my head, gentle as the wind while I lay alone in the room we once shared, unable to find sleep without my Ava’s presence. A warm embrace when I enter the halo for guidance on our next mission. A smile on a face that I know is only moments away from crying out to stay or come back with me this time. An understanding nod when she accepts, again, that she can’t come back. A kiss goodbye. Holding on as tightly as possible as if that can somehow prevent her from fading away, and me from waking up in an empty bed with tear stains on the pillows that I’m clutching to my chest.

None of this is enough. It never will be. I want Ava. I want her back the way she used to be. Fearless, once she found something to fight for. Clever, once you opened up to how strange her wisdom could sound. Kind, never wanting to make anyone feel the way others had made her feel for so much of her life. And real. Physical. Here. Not inside of the halo that we have both born on our backs. Not a ghost. I want Ava to be real. 

But I know this is the best that I can get. Ava is dead, but not gone. And one day this job will take me to the same place she rests in now, reunited at last. 


End file.
